He recognised the diversionary tactic, but was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of whatever Lucia was holding back. He was close to certain that there was a man involved. He dangled some bait. ‘Nacho was telling me about the hotel management job you had in London.’
‘I’m taking a sabbatical,’ she said quickly.
Which made no sense to him.
A fork hit the floor. It wasn’t one of Lucia’s better ruses. As she bent to retrieve it he waved the waiter away.
With her face hidden by the linen folds of the tablecloth, she was trying to buy time in the hope that thoughts of what had happened in London might fade.
‘Lucia?’
She exhaled with frustration, seeing that Luke had joined her under the table, his face level with hers. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked impatiently.
‘I might ask you the same question. And we can’t stay down here for ever—people will talk.’
As if Luke would care. Straightening up, she handed the fork to the waiter with an apology.
Luke remained silent until the man had gone, and then asked, ‘Are you okay, Lucia?’
‘I dropped a fork, Luke.’
‘So you didn’t have to answer any more questions about London, I presume?’
Luke’s expression was one she recognised: unwavering and disbelieving. Which said he was prepared to hang in for however long it took to get at the truth. He proved this theory with his next question. ‘So, what did you learn in London?’
‘Plenty.’
‘Such as?’ he probed.
That the world without family was a hostile, angry place, and that all men didn’t behave with the same chivalry towards women as Luke and her brothers. She might resent their interference in her life, but she had never realised that honour was in such short supply before.
She almost choked on her relief as their coffee arrived and there was the usual interruption as the waiters set everything out in front of them. Luke pushed a dish of chocolates over to her side of the table without another word.
Lucia devoured the chocolates as she had devoured everything else within reach, with a freakish type of nervous energy—as if she were a squirrel storing up for winter. Whatever she was hiding from him it was big. The impulse to transfer money into her account ASAP so she could buy some proper food was banging in his head, but he could just imagine Lucia’s reaction if he tried. And something told him that a balanced diet was the least of her problems. But he could hope.
‘Are you eating properly?’
‘I eat too much.’ She grimaced.
A diet of cream teas and chocolate, if he remembered Margaret’s specialities correctly. And he wouldn’t be surprised if any money Lucia saved from her earnings went to help Margaret out rather than any payment flowing the other way. Lucia had always had a generous heart. Too generous sometimes.
‘Great music,’ she said, drawing his attention to the Salsa band.
‘They must have known you were coming,’ he said, remembering Lucia on the dance floor at her brother’s wedding. Recollections of that evening curled heat around him. ‘Would you like to dance?’
‘Oh, no, that’s okay,’ she said, pulling back in her chair.
‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass you with my skill,’ he agreed.
She relaxed. ‘Your skill?’ One brow rose. ‘Since when have polo players had any skill to speak of—unless they are mounted on a really great horse?’
‘Ouch.’
‘I’ve had the chance to practise that one,’ she admitted, with a wry spark from the old days in her look.
‘A few times, I imagine,’ he agreed. ‘Shall we?’ he said, standing up.
Her lips pressed down as she stared at his outstretched hand. ‘I suppose one dance won’t kill me.’
As he held her chair he felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of holding Lucia in his arms that had absolutely no connection with doing a favour for her brother.
CHAPTER SIX
The first step is the hardest. And after that it’s all downhill, right?
Not this time, because tonight when Luke took my hand and led me onto the dance floor the bad thoughts took flight and all I could see in my mind’s eye was Luke riding flat out across the sand. Riding bareback, bare-chested, wearing the designer jeans his mother always insisted her staff must put a crease down the front of. Luke wore them cut off and frayed, covered in hoof oil and wet with sea spray, so that they clung to his hard-muscled thighs.
He’d whoop as he overtook the last of my brothers, leaving them roaring with frustration in his wake, lying flat on his horse’s neck, encouraging it to go even faster. Wings of diamond-studded mist would spread out behind him as if he were riding Pegasus and they might take to the sky at any moment.
At least that was what I always imagined when I was fourteen, as I sat watching him from the shadows by the rock pool.
AS THEY threaded their way through the tables Luke’s warm palm in the hollow of her back was a badly needed wake-up call. Luke could read her like a book, so she had to cage all her wild, unfounded, fearful thoughts and place all imaginings about a romance with Luke in the never-going-to-happen box.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked with concern as she shivered with a whole mix of emotions when he gathered her in.
‘Just frightened for my feet,’ she managed dryly.
‘Don’t be,’ Luke murmured.
She needn’t have worried. Once they reached the dance floor Luke’s touch was light and impersonal, and he was careful to keep a space between them that would have made a maiden aunt feel safe.
He loved Salsa dancing. He loved the rhythm and the music and the contact—especially tonight, with Lucia moving so easily in his arms. Dance was liberating, and a great prelude to sex. Though not with Lucia, of course. He held her well away from him. But she moved so easily it wasn’t long before his mind strayed onto the dark side. Dance was like sex. Trust had to be established and then limits set. Timing was all-important too.
His appetite sharpened when Lucia, having grown so much in confidence during the dance that she was almost back to the girl he knew, escaped him to execute a few hot Salsa moves of her own. Other men were watching her, and he found he didn’t like that. And when she yipped, ‘Ay, caramba,’ laughing as she threw her head back so her luscious hair swept the full curve of her buttocks, he knew he was in for trouble. He could have watched her all night. Private viewing would be his preference …
Most men looked awkward on the dance floor, but Luke was so well coordinated he looked hot, and they moved well together.
‘You’re a great dancer, Lucia.’
‘For such a great hulking oaf, you’re not so bad yourself.’ And if she couldn’t take the heat on the dance floor there were plenty of women watching Luke who could, Lucia concluded.
‘We fit so well together,’ he said, drawing her close.
So much of her was glued to Luke it was hard to disagree, but telling herself that Luke would never hurt her, or take advantage of her, didn’t help her heart to slow down. Again, she was worrying unnecessarily, for when the music stopped Luke escorted her back to the table.
‘That was so good!’ she exclaimed as he pulled her chair out, feeling as if everything bad that had happened in London must have floated away.
‘Will you excuse me, please, Lucia?’ Luke asked once she was seated.
‘Had enough of me?’ she teased, angling her chin in enquiry.
Dipping his head, he murmured in her ear, ‘There’s something I must do. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’
She glanced around as Luke left the restaurant, and noticed that every other woman was doing the same thing. Picking up her champagne glass, she gave a wry smile to think of so much man going to waste on her. She was about to take a sip of the sparkling wine when a man lost his balance and lurched into her table.
‘I’m afraid that seat’s taken,’ she explained politely.
Her stomach clenc
hed with alarm when the man ignored her and insisted on trying to sit down. He was so drunk he could barely stand, she realised. She glanced around, looking for help, but all the other diners were eating or chatting, and the waiters were busy.
It occurred to her then that before her experience with the concierge she could have handled something like this without missing a beat, but her brain seemed to have been rewired along with her confidence levels, and all she could force out of her mouth was a weak ‘Please don’t do that.’
The drunk ignored her.
It all seemed to be spinning out of control, just like the day in London when the concierge had locked them both in the staffroom. Her chest felt tight. She couldn’t breathe. And though a part of her brain said all this situation required was some firm action on her part she remained in a bubble of apprehension, waiting for the inevitable touch, the pinch, the grope.
Lurching forward, the drunk made a hideous munching sound as he reached for her breasts. In terror, she jerked back, and her drink flew everywhere as she rocked sideways off her chair.
Strong hands caught hold of her before she could fall to the floor. ‘Are you okay?’ Luke demanded in a shocked tone.
For a moment she could only stare at him in blank surprise, but then she slowly became aware that other people had gathered round and were staring at her with concern.
‘Did he hurt you, Lucia?’ Luke asked in a low, fierce voice.
‘No … No, I don’t think so.’ Luke was holding her hands so tightly they’d turned white. She realised she was gasping for breath like a landed fish. ‘I feel such a fool.’
‘Don’t.’ Shielding her from the onlookers with the bulk of his body, Luke lifted her out of the chair.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Questions later,’ he insisted, leading her out of the restaurant with one strong arm locked around her shoulders as he drew her into his body to keep her safe.
She glanced behind them. ‘My shawl!’
The maitre d’ handed it to Luke. Having thanked him, Luke asked for a bottle of good cognac to be sent up to his suite.
‘Right away, sir. We’re very sorry, sir. We’ll take care of it right away.’ The maitre d’ hurried away.
‘I can’t believe I only left you for a couple of minutes and someone tried to spoil your birthday,’ Luke grated out as he stabbed the elevator button.
Luke’s eyes were full of concern when he turned to search her face. She had really blown it now. ‘Nothing could spoil my birthday.’ Nothing except her weak, pathetic, shaking voice—which was more proof, should he need it, that something dreadful must have happened to turn the sexy, confident, party-girl Luke had used to know into the woman he held in his arms right now.
Needless to say, he picked up on it right away.
‘Is this the girl who could stand up to four fierce brothers?’ he demanded tensely. ‘What has happened to you, Lucia? What happened in London?’
‘Nothing,’ she insisted, shivering as the elevator doors slid closed, enclosing them in the small cabin. Surely it couldn’t contain so much emotion?
‘Nothing?’ Luke murmured, his gaze sharpening on her face. ‘Why can’t you trust me with the truth, Lucia? Haven’t we known each other long enough?’
The tension between them increased as the lift soared up to the penthouse floor, where she stepped out with relief into a beautifully decorated hallway. A lovely fresh smell hit her immediately, and though she was still reeling from her experience in the dining room she could appreciate the muted décor. Ivory walls and a thick crimson carpet beneath her feet to muffle sound, gilt mirrors glittering beneath concealed lighting. There were prints on the wall, and decorative touches of ruby and gold on lampshades and drapes.
Warm colours to make the guests feel cosy, she supposed as Luke opened the door leading into his suite. But she was still shivering.
Luke had barely closed the door when there was a discreet tap on it. It was two waiters arriving with coffee and brandy, and there was a birthday cake on a tray.
‘So that’s what you were arranging for me,’ she said, touched by the gesture.
Luke tipped the waiters and hustled them out.
‘You’re spoiling me,’ she said as he poured her a brandy and insisted she take a sip.
‘I refuse to be distracted, Lucia,’ Luke assured her. ‘Ever since I saw you at the club I’ve known something was wrong. And now tonight—’
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she interrupted. ‘It’s just that you’ve never seen me striking out on my own before. It’s been a lovely evening. Can’t we leave it at that?’
‘A lovely evening?’ Luke queried with a penetrating glance.
‘So a drunk spoiled it briefly?’ She shrugged, brushing it off. ‘I can’t explain why I overreacted. I’m tired. It must be because I’m tired. It’s not as if I haven’t seen a drunk before.’ She laughed, but Luke’s face remained watchful and unsmiling. ‘Thank you for the shawl,’ she added, stroking it as the tension between them mounted. ‘I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a birthday more.’
‘Possibly the day you celebrated by putting burrs under my saddle?’ Luke suggested, but there was little humour in his voice, and his stare plumbed deep as he searched for the truth she refused to share with him.
‘That was a contender,’ she agreed, forcing out another laugh.
They drank their coffee in tense silence, leaving the cake untouched, and finally Luke stood up. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said.
And let him see where she was living? Wouldn’t that be the perfect end to the perfect day?
‘You don’t need to. My car’s parked right outside.’
‘You’ve had a shock, and I won’t let you go home alone,’ Luke said flatly.
‘Luke, I don’t need a babysitter.’
‘You’ve had a drink. I haven’t,’ he said, glancing at her empty brandy glass.
‘Then I’ll ask them to call a cab. Look, I don’t want us to part like this.’
‘Like what? You’re the one holding back, Lucia.’
‘Why are you so suspicious? You and my brothers are all the same.’ Composing herself, she stood to face him. ‘Thank you for a wonderful evening, Luke—for the meal, the gift, the card, the cake. You’re very kind—’
‘I am very kind.’
She longed to cling to that grain of humour, so she could remember how it used to be between them before she felt grubby and Luke became so far removed. She was almost at the door when she stopped and impulsively, almost as if she had to prove something to herself, stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Luke’s stubble-blackened jaw. ‘Thank you for everything, Luke.’
Luke turned to look at her at just the wrong moment—or maybe it was the right moment. Whatever happened, their lips touched briefly.
He might as well have plugged her in to the socket in the wall. She drew a shocked breath as the charge flashed through her. And, most confusing of all, it wasn’t fear that held her motionless in front of him but some shadow of the girl she’d used to be. It was enough.
Instead of moving away, Luke laced his fingers through her hair and drew her closer still. ‘Happy birthday, Lucia,’ he murmured, repeating the shock treatment in a more leisurely fashion.
She had to tell herself that Luke was just being kind—that this was a reaction to what had happened to her with the drunk, and not some declaration of intent on his part to take things further. But it was like a dream. Only better than any dream she’d ever had.
‘There’s something you need to know, Lucia,’ Luke said rather formally, pulling back. ‘We’re not kids any more and I don’t think of myself as your babysitter. One more thing,’ he added, catching hold of her arm when, thoroughly confused by now, she went to move away. ‘If you play with fire you will get burned.’
With her nerves stretched as taut as a bow string, she almost laughed. Luke had no idea how true that was.
He saw something in her face that made him drag he
r back. And there was no mistake this time. This kiss was no accident. Luke’s lips were firm and persuasively mobile, and when he held her it was with both hands resting lightly either side of her ribcage, so that his thumbs could tease the full swell of her breasts.
But as the warm wave of pleasure swept over her, driving everything bad away, he let her go. ‘I’m taking you home,’ he said abruptly, turning for the door.
Even after all this time she received the message loud and clear. Luke was a warrior, with a warrior’s appetite, and no one should mess with that. And as a friend he was hurt that she couldn’t bring herself to confide in him. It was a dangerous combination.
This time she didn’t stop to argue, she just grabbed her coat.
The tension between them remained high as they drove back to the caravan park, where it developed into a full-scale snarling match about where Luke should drop her off.
‘Do you seriously think I’m going to let you walk through the dark on your own?’ he roared, slamming on the brakes.
‘Don’t you get it? I’m on my own now, and I’m fine,’ she whipped back as Luke swung round to glare at her.
‘I’m fine,’ he mocked, in a whiney approximation of a girly voice, which made her want to launch herself at him and punch him like the old days.
But Luke was right about one thing. Those days were long gone.
‘How do you think I’ve managed without you all this time?’ she demanded, when Luke remained tensely silent, with the steering wheel clenched in his big hands as if he’d like to rip it out of its fixings. ‘Anyway, I’m getting out.’
There was still no response from Luke. And now there seemed to be a problem with the door, which rather spoiled her grand flounce off. ‘Child lock, Luke?’
‘If the shoe fits, Lucia.’ His eyes had darkened to jet.
‘Let me out right now,’ she warned as he sat back, clearly not prepared to let her go. ‘You can watch me as I walk to the caravan.’
The Man From her Wayward Past Page 6